Truth or Dare
by turntechFuckass
Summary: Your name is Dave Strider, and you are nineteen years old. You are skilled in both irony and heavy sarcasm, and you are also a flaming homosexual - But nobody needs to know that.  Cliche drunk!Davejohn semi-fluff. First uploaded fic, bear with me.


== Be the coolkid

Your name is Dave Strider, and you are nineteen years old. You are skilled in both irony and heavy sarcasm, and you are also a flaming homosexual - but nobody needs to know that. You are currently on your way to a party with your long-time bestfriend and bane of your existance, the completely and painfully heterosexual John Egbert. You know there will most likely be alcohol at the party, and you know that you will most likely take full advantage of this fact.

== Dave: Skip ahead three hours

Your ever-present shades are crooked on your face as you laugh at your own joke, the plastic cup in your hand tipping dangerously. You have been studiously ignoring John's head leaning on your arm, and pretending not to notice Rose and Kanaya's handholding. You've even made an attempt to ignore Jade and Karkat's bickering, all in a futile effort to ignore the fact that you are the only one alone at this party. John's touchy-huggy drunk nature is appreciated, of course, but you never let yourself read too much into it. All too often you are reminded that he is, in fact, "not a homosexual."

So, instead of dwelling, you've been drinking. A lot. The problem is, though, that everyone else has too. Sooner or later, you find yourself seated in a circle around an empty tequila bottle, not knowing how you got there or why in the world Rose was slurring the words "Truth or Dare," because you sure as hell never agreed to this and you damn well aren't in middle school.

== Dave: Play

Nevertheless, you laugh as you watch the bottle spin for the next hour, having lost your shirt and the remainder of your sobriety and couth to the game. Despite your lack of comprehension, you are now shockingly aware of the dark-haired boy sitting across from you, his smaller frame having been flushed and flustered by one Mr. Jose Cuervo. You never really did admit to yourself how much you liked him - no, not like. Even drunk as a motherfucker, you knew better than that.

"Dave...? Dave!" Your head snaps up - While you were staring at John, the bottle had landed on you. You sighed and grabbed a card - Jade had introduced this system to keep the game fair, while still making it vaguely interesting to a group of shitfaced college kids. You flipped it over, preparing to read it out loud, and froze.

**DARE**

_**Kiss the person  
>sitting directly<br>across from  
>you!<strong>_

You swallowed hard, debating this in your head as the crowd around you starts chanting. John is blushing and staring at you like a deer in the headlights of a semi-truck, and you'll be lying if you tell yourself you don't look exactly the same way. This could be your only chance, you realize, to kiss the nerdy boy across from you.

It could also be a dead giveaway and a complete fuckup for your friendship.

== Dave: Kiss the Derp

You sigh again, motioning for John to lean forward as casually as you could with your pulse pounding in your ears. The chanting gets louder as you start inching towards one another, and nobody could possibly know how fast your heart is beating, how much your palms are sweating despite your slight lack of clothing. The bassline of the music seems to be getting louder on the stero, but you know its just your imagination.

Your face is inches away from John's now, and you both look obviously distubed. Your mind is racing a million miles a second, and you take a deep breath, steeling yourself. You manage to whisper out a quick "Sorry," although "sorry" is the furthest thing from your mind.

Your lips crash into hi, more enthusiastic than you had hoped to be, and you can't help but bring a hand up to cup the side of his face. He's warm under your palm, and he tastes like alcohol and strawberries. 

The "OOH!"-ing around you has died down after what you're sure was far too long of a kiss, and you hate yourself but you can't stop, you can't stand to pull away from the perfection under your hands, lips, body-

You feel a pair of hands grasping at your shoulders, and you realize that it's John, probably trying to push you away, but too nervous to defend himself from his completely and utterly gay best friend. So, instead, you pull yourself away, gasping for air and horrified with yourself. You lock eyes with John, who is blinking and obviously confused. His hands are still on your shoulders, and you tell yourself that it's shock, you've upset him, and you're scrambling away from this gorgeous boy that you probably just drove away forever.

You manage to stumble to your feet, choking out another painful "Sorry," unable to tear your gaze from John. Everyone's staring at you - you cant' take it. You turn tail, and before you know it, you're running out the door, ignoring the fact that John is calling after you, too kind and worrying for his own goddamn good.

There's another pair of footsteps behind your in the dark driveway, but you don't turn around. You stand, facing the road, shaking more than you'd care to admit to anyone but yourself. You're whispering to yourself, berating your stupidity with every curseword under the sun, and suddenly theres a nervous hand, grabbing your shoulder, turning you towards -

John. It's John, and he followed you. He's flushed and staring past your shades, into your eyes and oh GOD he's kissing you again and he's shaking and even to your wasted brain this feels like heaven. He's laughing now, breath puffing against your stinging lips as you pull him into a tight hug, not caring about the cars driving past the small house, not caring about the headlights hammering this picture into the eyes of strangers, because goddammit, John Egbert kissed you back.

Your name is Dave Strider, and this party is fucking awesome.


End file.
